


Forest Deep

by confundedgryffindor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Multi, Smoking, a wee bit of angst because we stick to the Brand here, if you like messes of poetry and weird imagery, no beta we die like men, then this is the fic for you, wolfstarbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confundedgryffindor/pseuds/confundedgryffindor
Summary: “I think I love you both. I kissed him and it felt the same way it feels like when I kiss you and I— I love you both. My heart can carry you both, Jamie.”
Relationships: Sirius Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin/James Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 165





	Forest Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennandblitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/gifts), [Purplechimera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplechimera/gifts).



> i'm posting this from my phone which is HELL wow 
> 
> anyway hi i wrote this Absolute Mess of a fic purple and jenn because we all need more wolfstarbucks in our lives
> 
> no beta for this one so all errors are my own. uegh it's not the best i've written i think but OKAY LET'S GO

Sirius loves James.

That's a solid fact; sturdy and solid like mountains, or cliffs giving way to the sea, like city buildings and hundred year-old trees. 

James loves Sirius, and Sirius loves James, and that's just how it is.

They love each other when they laugh and laugh, shooting off rapid fire jokes and burns at people who can't hear them when they're sitting on the Underground. They love each other when Sirius wakes from nightmare after nightmare and can't do anything but grip James' hand so hard that the bones grind together. They love each other when the anxious creature on James' shoulder starts tapping and nagging and whispering, when Sirius has to hold him and say  _ I love you, I love you  _ until James believes it. They love each other through thick and thin, sickness and health, ice and fire, from dusk till dawn.

Sirius loves James' messy hair, his just-enough-bulky muscles and his tree trunk brown eyes. He loves his laugh, that they're exactly the same height and that when nothing seems worth breathing for, James is there makes it all  _ so so  _ worth it. He has loved him since before they met, probably, if only the idea of the perfection that is James.

Sirius loves James, and he will never stop.

And then Remus comes along.

He doesn't come into their lives with a bang; a dramatic gesture with fireworks, but slowly, easing himself in. Him and Sirius are best friends within days if talking.

Remus, with his tawny hair and long, slender limbs and soft jumpers, with the scar on his nose and forest green eyes that are so, so deep. The eyes Sirius finds himself wanting to explore every time he looks into them. Remus with his deep, honey smooth voice and perfect smile showing off crooked teeth, Remus with his jokes that holds the same nature of Sirius and James' rapid fire ones. Sirius loves Remus too, and tells himself that the way his chest clenches is because he's thinking of James; what him and James are going to do when the bedroom door shuts; what him and James are having for dinner, or which movie they're going to watch, limbs tangled together with a head resting against the other's chest. Sirius tells himself that he's just running hot when Remus touches his shoulder or forearm and his entire body  _ burns _ with it.

He comes into their lives with witty texts to both of them, sometimes individually and sometimes in their group chat, with suggestions of movie nights and walks, visits their flat with board games and that smile with the crooked teeth.

Remus comes along like a river snaking through a forest as deep as his eyes, with smiles and laughs and calming reassurances when James can’t hold Sirius’ hand, when Sirius can’t whisper in James’ ear. When they can’t, Remus is there to text one of them, sometimes he’s even there to hold them, and it’s  _ friendly  _ and yet Sirius feels like he’s burning and he wonders if James can feel it too.

They're having beer, Sirius and Remus, whilst James visits his parents for the weekend, because what better way to spend your lonely Saturday night than with your best friend? They sit in a dimly lit pub, tucked inside a booth with two beers between them, listening to the mellow sounds of a pop song playing on a speaker somewhere closer to the bar. Remus is wearing a jumper that's far too large for his lanky frame, and it keeps sliding down so he shows off a sharp collarbone. Sirius finds himself staring at that sharp line of bone, licking his lips and then immediately looking away because  _ it's wrong.  _ He's James' boyfriend, he loves James.

But when they're on their fourth beer, laughing with flushed cheeks and crinkled eyes, stumbling out on the pavement for a smoke tangled together, Sirius thinks that his heart can carry both.

Sirius lights his cigarette with the glow of Remus'. He feels his whole face flush, and he wants to tell himself that it's the alcohol coursing through his veins, the residual warmth of the pub and the humid August air. But his heart can carry both, and he lets himself think that it's love.

“What does your boyfriend say about the smoking, Padfoot?” Remus asks. He’s teasing, Sirius knows, but he still looks down at his shoes with a flush of shame staining his face instead. 

“Piss off,” Sirius says, then takes an extra deep drag from his cigarette, thinking of James and Remus and forests of green and brown. Brown like  _ James’ _ eyes. He looks up at Remus and feels his heart clench like it’s done so many times before, but this time it’s not because he’s only thinking of James, but of Remus too. 

Remus laughs. Smoke billows out from his lips as he does and Sirius wants to taste it. 

He has never been one to control his impulses, never one to think twice unless it feels like it really matters, and this really matters but Sirius doesn’t think, and leans in close anyway. He tilts his head up a little to compensate for those two inches Remus has on him, and Remus has stopped laughing but smoke is still billowing out from his lips in intricate swirls. Sirius leans in closer, puts his lips mere millimetres from Remus’, and inhales the smoke coming from his mouth. 

Then he leans in even closer, takes a stumbling step forward so he stands flush with Remus and kisses him, straight on the mouth. He expects Remus to pull back, to say that it’s wrong because Sirius is James’ boyfriend, Sirius loves James, but Remus doesn’t. He parts his lips a little, brings Sirius closer with the hand that’s not holding the cigarette as Sirius lets his tongue slide against Remus’. Sirius is aching and burning but in a good way, desperately want to get closer like he does with James, and thinks, over and over and over,  _ my heart can carry both. _

“What does your boyfriend say about that?” Remus asks quietly when Sirius backs away. His eyes are closed and he sounds guilty and ashamed and Sirius’ heart is racing in his chest and his skin is  _ burning  _ and he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself. 

“I don’t know,” Sirius whispers. He doesn’t want James to get angry, because Sirius really, really loves James. But he loves Remus too, and he wonders if— _ hopes _ — James does too. 

James comes back on Sunday evening. Sirius doesn’t go to greet him at the door with a hug and a sloppy kiss, because those lips kissed Remus and he’s  _ scared.  _ He sits on the floor in the kitchen, hand clenched around an almost empty wine bottle while staring blankly ahead of him. The thought of  _ my heart can carry both  _ swims around in his head, repeating over and over like he can’t think of anything else, even though he’s definitely thinking of how James’ heart might not be able to hold both, or Remus’. Maybe it’s only Sirius’ heart that’s as deep as green and brown forests. 

He hears James say, “I’m home!” before dropping off everything at the threshold to their flat, but Sirius can’t respond. His mouth is dry and his heart is clenching and aching, and this time it’s not in a good way. 

This time it’s not James’ hand in his, James or Remus’ eyes, either of their lips against his that clenches his chest. This time it’s fear and guilt and shame and so much love, it feels like he’s a cup filled to the very brim. 

“Padfoot, love?”

Sirius doesn’t respond this time either. He brings the wine bottle to his lips and drinks the rest, hoping that it’ll ease the ache even though it hasn’t so far.

“Hey.” James stands in the doorway to the kitchen, looking down at Sirius with a frown on his face. Sirius wants to cry.

He can't breathe, can't talk, and James is moving, sits down on the floor next to him and carefully pries the now empty wine bottle from his hand, and replaces it with his own. Sirius holds tightly onto his hand, grinds the bones together as if he just woke from a nightmare. He can hear James wince and immediately feels guilty, but he can't lessen his grip, can't apologise because James puts his other hand in Sirius' hair like the one Sirius is holding isn't being crushed before he can muster a sound. He combs through the waves of inky black hair, scratching Sirius' scalp every so often in that way he likes it, and Sirius loves James and James loves him back so perhaps it doesn't matter that Sirius also loves Remus.

When the quiet has grown unbearable and when James' hands have made Sirius' hair static and messy, Sirius thinks it might be time to say something. There's a lump in his throat and his eyes are stinging, and yet he  _ needs  _ to say something. 

“I think I love you both,” is what Sirius manages to say in a drunken slur, voice hoarse and thick with not yet fallen tears. “I kissed him and it felt the same way it feels like when I kiss you and I— I love you both. My heart can carry you both, Jamie.”

"Who?" James is still now, hand still tangled in Sirius' hair. Sirius swears he can hear James' heartbeat quicken but he doesn't know what it means, even though he usually does. He's been with James for so long that he knows which rhythm means love or desire or fear and anxiety, has loved him for so, so long, but he can't figure this one out.

"Remus." A tear does slip down Sirius' cheek, then, and he's so  _ scared  _ that James will detangle himself and shoot up and start to yell and hate even though that's not who James is. And he doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

He pulls Sirius closer to him instead, kisses his hair and holds him so close, and Sirius can still hear James' heart race in his chest but the rhythm sounds like love now. "Me too."

When they fall asleep in bed some time later, limbs tangled together with Sirius' breath smelling of wine and his cheeks tearstained, he still feels like he's brimming over with love; like it's seeping through his ragged edges, but he's no longer scared.

James texts Remus the next day, and Sirius knows that he's written something cryptic like  _ come over  _ which can be interpreted in so many ways. Sirius showers while they wait, washes off fear and sweat and shame he doesn't need to feel anymore. He makes sure to towel his hair mostly dry before letting it air dry completely because a hair dryer would make his hair frizzy and messy and he hates that, and then he puts on a pair of sweats and James' jumper because it feels like  _ home  _ and  _ comfort  _ and he, quite frankly, doesn't give a shit about Remus seeing him in cozy stay-at-home clothes.

He kisses James, pushes him up against the kitchen counter and murmurs  _ I love you _ against the corner of his boyfriend's mouth at least five times because it's always worth repeating.

And then Remus finally arrives, holding a bag from Aldi containing crisps and fizzy drinks and a bar of chocolate for good measure, and they all sit in front of the telly. 

They talk and talk and talk, sometimes not making any sense at all. When they get past the most serious stuff of Sirius saying  _ I love you both,  _ they start nibbling on the crisps Remus brought, sip their fizzy drinks and talk some more.

And then, when they've talked for so long that Sirius feels his throat going sore and the love is seeping through his edges again, smiling and blushing if just a little bit, Remus says, "I wanna give it a go. This. Us. If you want it."

Sirius loves James.

He's loved James since he met him. Before that, even. Sirius loves James and his tree trunk brown eyes, his messy black hair and his laugh. He loves him when he holds his hand after waking from nightmare after nightmare, when he has to hug James and whisper _ I love you, I love you _ . Sirius loves James, all the time, always, sturdy like mountains or hundred year-old trees or city buildings, ever present.

Sirius also loves Remus.

No less, no more than he loves James. He loves his tawny hair, his forest green eyes that he wants to explore over and over, loves his gangly limbs and large hands that feel so, so fantastic when they roam his body. He loves Remus when he hugs Sirius when he wakes from nightmare after nightmare, when he helps to coax James down from the rapid beating heart and shallow breathing from the anxious creature nagging on his shoulder. Sirius loves Remus' crooked-teeth smile, and the way they share cigarettes and smoke. 

Together, they're a forest at midnight; with deep greens and earthy browns and silver crescent moons, a dark night sky with forever burning stars, deep and never ending. They make a perfectly painted picture of just enough dark and light, depth and colours and Sirius loves them both.

His heart can carry both.


End file.
